Soft Target (25 page)

She sniffed and nodded. “We have popcorn.”

“Do you still eat it with hot sauce and Parmesan cheese instead of butter?”

“Butter’s boring,” she warbled as she stood and walked to the kitchen. When he shadowed her, she didn’t protest. While she cooked, he handed her condiments and stood between her and the windows. He kept her close during the movie and walked her to her room in the dark.

Once she was ready for bed, she opened the door. It wasn’t as frightening if she could hear him moving through the house, and she’d be able to hear if he had a nightmare. The cool pillow and slick sheets soothed her scratches and bruises as she closed her eyes.

She woke in the middle of the night and held her breath when she saw a shadow on the threshold. Her eyes adjusted. Tall, dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, with a shoulder holster. Graham.

Maggie reached for him. His fingers closed over hers just before he put one knee on the mattress, clearly intending to put himself between her and the hallway.

She shook her head and patted the other side of the bed. “I have to see the door.”

He walked around the foot of the bed and climbed in. The mattress shifted, curling her toward him. “I can’t sleep on my left side. It’ll mean—”

“Spooning?”

“Tease.” He pulled the comforter from the floor and covered them both before he removed his shoulder holster and put the gun on her nightstand. “Can you reach it there?”

She nodded against her pillow, suddenly too shy to look at him as he stripped his shirt over his head. “You are the weirdest tax attorney I’ve ever slept with.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I needed to know you were breathing.” He smelled of soap and spearmint mouthwash as he curved around her, warm and reassuring. But not safe. Her stomach fluttered as he anchored her to him.

“I like knowing you’re warm,” she whispered as she snuggled closer.

His breath tickled her skin, and his knees nudged hers. After long moments, his arm grew heavier and his inhales deepened. She closed her eyes.

“If anything happens to you because I missed something...”

“Shh, sweetheart.” She put her hand over his, focusing on the long fingers instead of the stitches scratching her palm. “You’re the smartest man I know.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Maggie woke when muted daylight filtered through the curtains and Graham’s chest hair tickled her nose. His large hand cradled her ass, holding her close, and the heaviness along her thigh wasn’t Felix. Raising her head, she watched him wake in slow motion.

His fingers and toes tested surroundings before he dragged in a deep breath and blinked away the stiffness instilled by sleep. Shock jolted his eyes wide as his arm tightened around her.

“What’s that god-awful racket?” His rough, drowsy voice scratched her skin and brought her nerves to life.

“There’s a sparrow outside the window.” Another cheerful trill filtered through the glass. “You’re the one who wanted bird feeders.”

He idly stroked her negligee, tormenting her as he toyed with the hem. “I thought you didn’t wear pink.”

His touch spawned all sorts of indecent thoughts. “It was a gift from Charlene. She said it was fuchsia, not pink, and that I wouldn’t have it on long enough for anyone to tell what color it was. Obviously she was wrong.”

“Not wrong,” he said as he reached for her.

She did her own exploring. His hair refused to lay flat, and sandpaper stubble ranged from his jaw to halfway down his neck. His chest hair curled around her fingers.

Circling his flat nipple with the edge of her fingernail, she watched it pebble before she continued down his body, following the trail of coarse hair as it traversed his torso and disappeared under his waistband. His feet writhed beneath the sheets as his fingers covered hers, curving her around him. He jerked and pulsed in her hand, hot, hard and growing heavier with every stroke.

“Oh God.”

She wasn’t sure who said it, but she was on her back while the groan was still echoing in the room. When she moved her hand, his body chased it.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered against her lips.

She reclaimed him and his mouth left hers to journey down her neck to her shoulder and then her breast. As he sucked her nipple into the wet heat of his mouth, everything in her coiled tighter. He switched to the other, tormenting her until her breasts ached and her entire body shook. It was her turn to whimper in hunger and writhe closer. She clung to him, begging him to continue, but he evaded her.

The doorbell rang just as his hands slid around her ribs and his tongue traveled toward her navel. His hair tickled her skin, dragging the heat and the tension toward her center. “They’ll leave,” she panted. “More,
please
.”

“God yes.”

The visitor pounded on the front door. “Get your ass out of bed.”

Nate
.

“Does he have a key?” Gray’s hot breath brushed her stomach and made her tremble in places she’d forgotten existed.

“Yes,” she groused. “And he’ll look in every window.”

“Worst timing,” he grumbled.

“Married life making you lazy, Harper?” It was a new, unfamiliar voice.

“Dammit, I forgot,” Gray said as he leaned away. “He
will
look in every window.”

“Who is it?” She sat up, ignoring the protest of her body and his whine of regret.

“Jeff Crandall—a friend. A profiler. I asked him to come help.”

They rolled from bed and scrambled for clothing.

Keys jangled at the door. She pushed him from the room and shoved his shirt into his hands. “I’ll be right out.”

* * *

Gray ran for the alarm as Nate pushed the door open.

“Make yourself at home,” he groused as he yanked the shirt over his head.

“When he couldn’t reach you, Marco called to tell me when your truck would be ready. Someone shot out all the windows? You didn’t think to tell me?”

Shit. Gray focused on his friend’s hard stare. He understood the concern, but this was between him and Maggie. “We had a few things to deal with.”

“I can tell,” Nate sneered. “So you’re fucking my—”

That was
definitely
between him and Maggie. “Watch your mouth.” Gray held out his hand. “Give me your key. You don’t get to come and go as you please.”

“What are you doing? It’s not like you’re staying.”

“Enough, Nathan. It’s none of your business.” Maggie’s clipped tone drew the men’s attention.

She was in the dress she’d worn before their wedding, some knit thing that went to the floor but still suggested every curve and set off the color of her skin and the muscles of her arms—and every scratch and bruise she had. Between those and his stitches, they looked like they’d brawled all week. But her lips were swollen from his kisses, and his body still throbbed from her touch.

“The hell it isn’t. You’re
my
responsibility.”

“No, she’s not.” Gray’s voice snapped, his nerves raw from worry and sexual frustration. He exhaled and forced himself to relax. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about yesterday. You shouldn’t have found out that way.”

Nate put the key in his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. His grip was tight, and the challenge in his gaze couldn’t be ignored. Gray returned the level stare until his friend dissolved into laughter.

“Three cars in two weeks. That’s a record, even for you, Mags.”

As brother moved to tease sister, Gray walked to the door and grabbed Jeff in a back-slapping hug. “Sorry. Forgot. Lots going on.”

“I can tell.” Jeff laughed. “You’re lucky I’m a trained investigator, or I’d still be sitting in Boise living on airline peanuts.”

“And if I wasn’t a nosy SOB,” Nate said, “he’d still be trying to decipher Chet’s directions out here.”

Gray led his friend into the living room. “Maggie, this is Jeff Crandall. Jeff, this is Maggie, my wife.” The heat kindled under his skin until his ears burned.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Jeff drawled.

“Ma’am?” she asked. “Did they teach that when they taught you to drink sugar in your tea?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jeff’s drawl slowed and his grin widened.

“Quit flirting, Crandall,” Gray muttered.

“Would you like breakfast?” Maggie offered.

“And a haircut?” Gray asked.

Jeff stroked his beard and tossed his hair, which hung past his jawline. “I like it.”

On his way into the kitchen, Gray passed his friends. Both men were watching him like he was a tiger in the zoo. Their smirks were harbingers of smart-ass remarks.

Flipping them off with one hand, Gray reached the other over Maggie’s head for coffee cups. He stayed in the kitchen, pretending to help, manufacturing reasons to invade her space just so he could touch her.

He was running out of chances.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Gray stood with his arm around Maggie’s waist while they met with the local PD on the sidewalk across from the bar and tested her theory.

“He’d have to be up high,” Maggie reasoned. “You can’t see my apartment from the street.”

“You can if you get far enough back in the alley and use binoculars or a zoom lens.”

She shuddered. “Ick.”

“Sorry, Badger.” He turned to Glen. “Can anyone get to the second floor of this building?”

Chet’s voice crackled over the radio, marking his progress until he waved from an upstairs window. They tested every spot in Maggie’s apartment until they were sure they’d found her stalker’s perch.

Leaving Max standing guard at the bar, Gray helped investigate. He’d find this son of a bitch. He’d make Maggie safe. Give her her life. Her freedom.

She was standing in her apartment window, staring at nothing. Her hair reflected the sunlight. He’d awakened this morning feeling her soft skin under his fingers. She’d been warm and soft, sweet and willing.

Through the windows, across the distance, her smile widened as she waved. Despite hating that specific smile, he waved back.

She walked away, and he stared at the empty window, at the spot where she should have been. He missed her already. Would it always be like this? Him working, going about his business, yet always looking for her, missing her.

He rushed through work, eager to get back to her side. And he stayed there for the rest of the day, watching over her and listening to her laugh as Jeff told stories Gray had already heard, or lived through. Now, on the back patio, shadows lengthened and darkness fell, and he held her hand as he scanned the yard. The pistol in his ribs alternately felt right and out of place, much like him.

Maggie yawned and stretched. “I think that’s it for me. I hope you don’t mind the couch, Jeff.”

He sure as hell minded Jeff on the sofa. He didn’t want a third person in the house tonight. He didn’t want anyone between him and Maggie.

Gray stood. “I’ll walk you in.”

He kept her hand and dragged his feet all the way to her threshold. Her lips were sweet, and her sigh floated across his cheek. “Goodnight, Graham.”

They were running out of time.

When Gray returned to the patio, Jeff shucked out of his holster and asked the questions that had dogged them since they’d seen the ballistics report from the sniper attack. “An M14? How did she piss off a sniper with an automatic rifle?”

“I have no idea. If she so much as frowns, these guys are ready to throw me in a quarry pond.”

Gray sat in the dark, spinning his thoughts until he was dizzy and exhausted from suspicion, and sick from considering people he’d worked beside and grown to respect.

“You’re sure you want to leave this?” Jeff asked.

I’m not sure of anything anymore.
“We made a deal, Jeff. I go home when she’s safe. We’ll get divorced after her birthday.”

Gray stared at the mountains, taking every chance now to etch them into his memory. “She wants her freedom.” He stood, his body weighted with regrets he couldn’t afford to have. “We’ll pack all the evidence to Glen’s office and lay it out in the morning.”

Jeff followed him in. “I’ll be ready.”

Gray padded down the hall to his room. When he’d arrived in the spring, it had been just another room with a great view and a large bed. Now it was filled with him. Books were stacked on the bedside table, and his pajamas were over the chair. The bathroom vanity was crowded with his razor, his toothbrush—all the trappings of home. He’d changed this place, and it had changed him. He wasn’t the squeaky tin man anymore. Maybe he
should
go back to Chicago. Maybe it would be different.

Stepping into the shower, he stood under the spray and closed his eyes. They were close. He could feel it the way he always had with previous cases. Jeff’s arrival was the tipping point.

Tomorrow they’d go to the police station, and he and Jeff would collaborate the way they did best. He’d need to get up early and box everything, roll up the time line and carry it with them. What else? He rounded the corner into his bedroom, his brain spinning.

His door was closed.

As his knees gave way, he stumbled sideways into the wall. His heart thudded until it shook his eardrums, and a vise gripped his lungs as the tinny memory of blood filled his mouth. The sticky texture of Ted’s tissue splotched across his skin as phantom pain drooped his left side. Memory blinded him. Everything was a wash of dark slacks, black dress shoes, raid jackets and blood. The wails of ghostly sirens deafened him as his stomach churned.

He shook his head clear.
No. That’s over. It’s in the past. I’ve got to focus on now. And right now, Maggie is on the other side of that door. I’m not going stand here afraid to open it. I won’t fail her again
. His fingers trembled and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he reached for the door.

“Graham?”

He spun to face Maggie, who was perched in his bedside chair. His heart banged into his ribs hard enough to loosen the screws keeping him together. “Jesus! That’s a good way to get yourself shot.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t shower armed,” she teased. Her laughter faded as he slid down the wall and onto the floor. She came to his side, regret shadowing her eyes. “Sweetheart?”

He wrapped his fingers through hers as his rasping breaths echoed through the room. “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” She scrambled into the bathroom and spoke over the running water. He closed his eyes, content to listen.

“What is it?” she murmured from shoulder level as she wiped his brow with a cold cloth. She kept going down his neck, his shoulders and arms. She rinsed it and returned to wipe his chest in long, calming strokes. “The door?”

Gray tried not to whimper when he nodded, but he thought he failed. She was warm, and her hands were strong under the cool texture of the cloth.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want Jeff to know I’d come in here. Do you want me to open it?”

He shook his head. He was a grown man. He could deal with a slab of lumber. “I’ll do it later.” Alarmed by the shake in his voice, he cleared his throat. “It’ll wait as long as I know where you are.”

They sat on the floor, cloaked in shadows and silence. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the wall.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” she whispered.

“I never wanted anything more than to be in the FBI, and I was great at it. I’ve spent my whole life following paper trails to catch the bad guys. I didn’t lie to you before. I love the puzzle, and I’m
never
wrong. But...”

He didn’t want her to know how badly he’d failed, what it had cost someone else, how he’d escaped. Then again, she deserved to know why he shouldn’t—couldn’t—stay.

“I was investigating an accountant, and it had been easier to catch him on paper than in person so we went to his office unannounced. Ted Brooks was with me. He was fresh out of the Academy, and you’d have thought it was Christmas and his birthday all rolled together. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell his parents about his first arrest.

“We hadn’t bothered with vests. All I wanted was to ask the guy some questions.

“The office was at the end of the hall. We opened the door, and I went in. The first shot caught me in the ribs. The second in the shoulder. The third would’ve finished me, but Ted stepped... He was dead before we hit the floor.”

Her hand trembled. “And the shooter?”

He opened his eyes. “I don’t even remember killing him.”

Maggie’s eyes were large in her pale face, and her grip cut off the circulation to his fingers, but she didn’t try to smooth it over or explain it away. Instead she waited until he invited her closer. Then she scrambled into his lap and wrapped her arms around him. Gray dropped his head to her shoulder and pulled her tight.

He wasn’t sure how long she held him, but when he raised his head he felt pounds lighter and years younger. “Why are you in here, Badger?”

Her body softened against his, and her touch went from comforting to exploring. Leaning forward, she ran the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip before catching it between her teeth. Her breath tickled his nose while satin brushed his skin. He tightened his hold as his blood raced through his veins.

She was his wife. She wanted her freedom. He had to let her go. And if he did this... It took everything he had to pull away and shake his head. He touched his fingers to her lips, brushing their soft curves. In the depths of her eyes desire sparked into frustration then faded to sadness.

“Please, Graham.”

Those two words brought every inch of his body to life. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back until her neck arched. His tongue stroked the newly revealed skin as he rocked her against him, tormenting himself with the texture of the towel when he wanted to feel her. Her nipples scraped his chest through the satin, her legs flexed against his hips.

He was tired of following the rules.

* * *

When he separated them, Maggie gathered her senses and prepared to fight for what she needed. Her argument stuck in her throat when she looked into heavy lidded eyes dark with desire. His erection prodded her through the layer of terry cloth. His scars carved his skin in new directions and put an edge on the polished attorney everyone else saw. As they stood, his towel fell, revealing lean muscles and masculine angles. He prowled toward her, forcing her backward until they reached the bed.

He skimmed his hands from her shoulders down her body, dragging her negligee in their wake until it pooled at her feet. His stare followed it down her heated skin. Breathing hard, he licked his lips as his fingers twitched on her flesh as if he couldn’t decide where to start.

Yanking her to him, he sealed his lips over hers. His sinuous tongue tempted her, striking a hungry rhythm matched by his roving hands as he gave up deciding and tried to touch her everywhere at once.

He made love like he argued—passionate, intense and overwhelming. Her nails raked his back as she struggled for balance, and he hissed against her lips.

“Sorry.”

“I like it.” He tugged her hand back to him and renewed his feast. “Trust me, Maggie.” His whisper was rough on her skin as he circled her nipple with his tongue. “Let go.”

His hands joined the plea, stroking the back of her thigh and pulling one foot from the floor. His hard length prodded her stomach, and her muscles melted. Cool cotton sheets at her back contrasted with the heat of his body on hers.

The warmth left her as he jackknifed off the bed. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?”

“Don’t you hear that?” he snarled as he stalked through the room. “Someone’s at the door.”

She stifled her giggles. “It’s the headboard.”

He returned, laughter shaking through him. It was sexier than any foreplay she could imagine. “You can’t blame me given our track record.”

He stroked his fingers down her body, and she changed her mind about foreplay.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” he whispered. “To have everyone teasing me about what they think we’re doing when we
aren’t
doing it? When that’s all I want to do? I sleep in here alone, when you’re—”

“I know.” She kissed him, but he slipped free and started down her torso. The hunger flamed again as he picked up where they’d left off this morning. She yanked his hair until he flinched under her fingers.

“Ow.”

“I’m having trouble staying quiet as it is.”

He smirked as he came back to eye level. “You shouldn’t have told me that.”

When he leaned up to put pillows between the bed and the wall, she tasted his skin and ran her hands over his abs and around his hips to his ass. The farther he leaned, the more she explored, and the more noises he made. It took a long time to arrange the pillows.

“Tease,” he grated as he leaned away and reached for the nightstand drawer. “If I can’t, you can’t either.”

She put her hand over his, glad it was dark enough to hide her blush. “I’m on birth control.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough. His fingers flexed on her hip.

The heat under her skin had now nothing to do with embarrassment, but it stole her breath. She nodded.

He rolled to one side and pulled her with him.

She sighed as skin touched skin and his chest hair brushed her nipples to tighter points. While his gaze roamed her front, his hands traced her back. Maggie stroked his calf with her toes while she circled his nipples with her fingers and then her tongue. Flattening her palms on his skin, she soaked up his heat while he stretched like a large cat, and she swore she heard him purr.

Keeping their kisses slow and thorough they only parted to taste other places, communicating through whispered encouragements and fingers on flesh, giving pleasure and watching the other take it. When his stubbly jaw added to her enjoyment, she rolled her lips closed to stifle her whimper.

His sexy laughter brought a new round of shivers. As payback, she nibbled his neck and laughed as he swallowed a groan.

Play ended when he slid one finger inside her. With a gasp, she put the rest of her body in his reach. She was either rewarded or tormented for her effort when he pulled from her to rub her most sensitive spot. It became a new rhythm—slip, thrust, out, rub. His kiss imitated it, pulling her further down a sensual path as a second finger joined the first.

His lips left hers to claim her nipple while he rolled her to her back and rocked her deeper into the movement. Maggie became aware of every touch. The brush of his arm against the inside of her thigh, the heel of his hand as it joined his fingers in tormenting her, his silky hair slipping through her fingers and his warm breath tickling her skin.

Her heels scraped the sheets as her whimper became a whine. Desperate, she pressed her hands to his back and pulled, wriggling to bring him closer. He resisted, his muscles rippling and straining to keep her still. For a moment, she got lost in the feel of his powerful body warring with hers.

She didn’t want to come alone. She’d been alone too long. She wanted to be with him. “Graham—”